


Monster

by s0ul



Series: Melting the Frozen [2]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dark!Elsa, Death, Evil!Elsa, F/M, Iceburns, attack on the ice palace, rewritten scene in Frozen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ul/pseuds/s0ul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told her not to be the monster they feared.</p><p>(But he was too late.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

"Queen Elsa – don't be the monster they fear you are!"

The words barely pierced the haze of battle in her mind. Adrenaline ignited her veins and drummed in her ears – blocking all noise, all pleas, all  _pain_  – as she watched the  _idiot_  who had even dared to attack her, inching towards the edge of the terrace of her ice palace.

He was being pushed by a wall she had conjured of the same material. Her other hand kept another man against the wall, as still as the sharp jag of ice threatening to pierce his throat.

_Weaselton's minions_ , she recognized.  _Sent to kill me._

She gritted her teeth, the anger fueling the adrenaline. She pushed her hand forward, escalating the speed of the moving wall, and stared at him, at his increasing helplessness, at his intensifying fear as he edged closer to the far abyss below.

And then, a scream – raw and hoarse and  _scared_ – pierced the bitter and barren air, echoing inside the palace and out onto the frozen world.

The wall dropped with him.

At the corner of her eye, she spotted movement. Hesitation was lacking, as her hand – the remaining boundary that kept the inch of distance between the jag of ice and his throat – twitched, and the crossbow clanged to the icy floor.

Lowering her arms, she straightened, returning to the rigid posture of a queen. After taking two turning steps, she was facing the guards, and at their center – Hans.

Their faces were open, eyes wide and jaw down. The grips on their weapons were fragile, hands trembling. Body frozen (a figure of speech), and feet stuck. Speechless, horrified and  _afraid_.

"Are you here to kill me?" she asked, voice as cold as the crystal she could generate.

Hans stepped back, apparently caught off guard at the calmness of her voice. But he immediately composed, swallowing the lump in his throat and taking a step forward. "We only wish to protect you, Your Majes–"

"Protect?" she said, eyes flashing and shoulders tense. " _Protect me_?" Her voice barely rose in volume, but the guards flinched as if she had.

For the first time ever, words failed to form on Hans's tongue. Fear melted them before they slipped past his chapped lips. Lips that were paling to a lighter hue of pink at the shivering temperature. 

"That's what my father said." Her tone was soft; features hard. Slender fingers curled into her palm. "And now,  _look at me_  –" She threw an arm forward, hand splayed, and from the floor of the palace, thin ice – tinted with an angry shade of yellow – was snaking up their boots, and was soon infecting their legs, removing their ability to walk.

It wasn't what ice should have felt like, Hans realized, hitting it with his own sword – the guards doing the same – but failing to even produce a crack. Indeed, it was cold, freezing his limbs as it slipped into the microscopic fibers of his clothes and onto flesh.

But it was also  _hot_ , burning bones and muscles as it seeped into his pores. It poisoned his blood, as it followed – and  _scorched_  – its flow to the very core of his physical being – the heart.

Elsa approached him, the clicking of her heels ringing in the hollowness of the palace. She stopped in front of his struggling form, arms now useless as the ice contaminated his sword upon one of its strikes on his legs. Its grace matched that of its creator.

He met her gaze. Unreadable, with eyes glinting an alarming shade of blue. Light but deep, and as furious as the hue of yellow tainting her ice. 

Out of instinct, he shrunk, leaning backward – away from  _her_. Fear pulsed beside the ice in his veins; burnished the green and gray of his eyes, and suffocated the life in his lungs. (And he didn't need to act.)

"I  _am_ a monster, Hans."

 And then – 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to fill in the blanks, dear reader. c:
> 
> My entry for the second prompt of Helsa Week (or month ... ) - like ice, like fire. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading! c:
> 
> (And yes, I intentionally spelled Weselton like that. Ehe.)
> 
> (Also, DYK: Elsa's ice has a shade of yellow when she's angry; red when she's scared.)


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